e as a batsman, he was not in
the same class with that player either as a base runner or a fielder,
the Californian in the two latter respects being able to race all around
him. Ryan at the present writing is still a member of the Chicago team,
and, though by no means as good a player as he was some years ago, is
quite likely to remain there as long as Mr. Hart continues at the head
of affairs.

William A. Sunday, or "Billy," as we all called him in those days, was
born in Ames, Iowa, and was as good a boy as ever lived, being
conscientious in a marked degree, hardworking, good-natured and
obliging. At the time that I first ran across him he was driving an
undertaker's wagon in Marshalltown, though it was not because of his
skill in handling the ribbons that he attracted my attention. There was
a fireman's tournament going on at the time of my visit, in which Sunday
was taking part, and it was the speed that he showed on that occasion
that opened my eyes to his possibilities in the base-ball playing line.
He was, in my opinion, the fastest man afterwards on his feet in the
profession, and one who could run the bases like a scared deer. The
first thirteen times that he went to the bat after he began playing with
the Chicagos he was struck out, but I was confident that he would yet
make a ball player and hung onto him, cheering him up as best I could
whenever he became discouraged. As a baserunner his judgment was at
times faulty and he was altogether too daring, taking extreme chances
because of the tremendous turn of speed that he possessed. He was a good
fielder and a strong and accurate thrower, his weak point lying in his
batting. The ball that he threw was a hard one to catch, however, it
landing in the hands like a chunk of lead. Since "Bill" retired from the
diamond he has become noted as an evangelist, and I am told by those who
should know that he is a brilliant speaker and a great success in that
line. May luck be with him wherever lie may go!

I have said that Sunday threw a remarkably hard ball to catch, and this
was true, but I have noted the same peculiarity in regard to other
players that I have met. How to explain the reason for this is a
difficult matter. He was not as swift a thrower as either Williamson,
Burns or Pfeffer, all of whom sent the ball across the field with the
speed of a bullet and with the accuracy of first-class marksmen. In
spite of the extreme speed with which they came into the hand,